


The Possibility of Good Dreams

by SarahJumeirah



Category: The Last Time I Saw Richard
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lots of Angst, M/M, OMG so much angst, too much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahJumeirah/pseuds/SarahJumeirah
Summary: Will Richard ever have a good dream, Jonah finds out.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ReeseRegal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReeseRegal/gifts).



> This is my first fanfic, so it is only fitting to write on a fandom that has not be written on before. If you have not seen this video I strongly recommend watching it (warning not for before bed unless you have a good nightlight).  
> The link to this amazing peace of art is: https://vimeo.com/113774594  
> Credit to my friend ReeseRegal who showed me the video! (And before you ask yes they did post a fix, yes it is amazing, and yes you should go read it!)  
> Link to ReeseRegal's fic: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8689300

“Whatcha drawing?” Jonah playfully sang out to his friend. Richard was feverishly drawing across from Jonah in the TV room. When Richard did not acknowledge his roommate or his question Jonah decided to do the only logical thing and throw random objects at the taller boy until he pulled his abnormally attractive nose from his notebook. Not wanting to get up from his chair Jonah grabbed the only throwable thing within reaching distance… the TV remote. Without looking up Richard caught the small plastic device and turned the television set off and then placed the remote gently by his side. Now thoroughly pissed off (and a little bored without his cartoons playing) Jonah left his comfortable chair and walked over to Richard, grimacing when a young girl ran to take up the empty lazy boy. 

“Must I always save you from your demons?” Jonah joked as he snached Richard's notebook. Richard did not try to protest or grab for it as he would have a few months ago, he knew that Jonah would poke fun at his drawings but he trusted it came from a place of sincere kindness (even if Jonah thought differently). Jonah’s eyes darted back and forth as he analyzed the nearly finished work. 

“What is it?” Jonah asked monotonously. Richard quirked his eyebrow at the boy’s question. Jonah had experienced months of Richard's bad dreams and analyzed every page of his notebook but had never questioned any of it.

“I know I am not that bad at drawing,” Richard stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “I think it looks rather beautiful don’t you?” Richard’s easy smile grew into a wide devilish grin when Jonah frowned and slammed the book shut. Richard extended his long arm and held open his hand expectantly. Jonah either did not notice or completely disregarded this gesture, as he unceremoniously dropped the book at his feet and stalked off to his 3 o’clock appointment with his counselor. 

Jonah spent the next hour of his life rambling about cowards and quoting hamlet as he watched his doctor scramble to make sense of anything he was ranting about. He found it entertaining to watch the confused face of “one of the top doctors in australia” as he tried to pick apart his brain and make sence of any of the shit inside.

After he was dismissed for his mandatory therapy session Jonah made a beeline for the nearest unoccupied bathroom and locked himself in a stall. He pulled the now dull razor out of his shoe. Jonah heart raced at the sight of the blade, he had always preferred dull razors, they hurt just a little more but the wounds bleed just a little less thus allowing him to hide the pain that just got more intense the more he used his weapon. The dark haired boy could not stifle laugh in his throat as a giggle escaped his dry lips, one of the best doctors in the country could not do in a year what a razor could do in seconds. Relief relaxed his stiff shoulders as he watched the pain bleed out of him. Pain seemed to be the only thing he genuinely liked these days (besides Richard of course). In minutes the blood was clotted and the blade was wiped and stowed.  
Jonah shuffled back to his room hoping to avoid Richard, for a few more hours. Holding his breath he opened the door and frowned at his roommate who was blasting music in his earphones. 

Richard glared at Jonah as he entered the room. Pulling the earphones from his ears Richard stood and crossed the room to meet Jonah who was closing the door quietly behind him. Wordlessly Richard grasped Jonah’s wrist, turned over his arm, and pull up his sleeve. His sympathetic green eyes meet Jonah’s empty blue ones, then trailed down to his clenched jaw before he looked down and the exposed hurt before him. 

Jonah waited for a gasp or a taunt. He racked he mind trying to come up with something to say, a well worded plea promising recovery (or more accurately a taunt of Richard's own lack of recovery). He was ready to explain to Richard about how the cat in the (non excitant) animal therapy center went rabid when a warm pressure on his arm snapped his mind back to reality and pulled the breath from his lungs. Slowly and carefully Richard kissed every new mark, applying a soft and steady pressure. Jonah felt the warmth linger when Richard pull his sleeve back down and watched as Richard laced their fingers together. 

“I finished my drawing. Do you want to see it?” Richard whispered while trying to get Jonah to meet his eyes again. Jonah nodded wordlessly, and for the first time did not have a clever retort. With his eyes still glued to their interlocked hands he followed Richard to his side of the room. 

“Beautiful. Isn’t it?” Richard asked nonchalantly, looking at Jonah for his reaction. 

“What is it?” Jonah repeated his question from earlier with a shaky voice. Looking at his own face expertly draw gave him chills. On the page, Jonah's mouth hung open with silent laughter, his eyes seemed full of life not numb or blank, and his body seemed relaxed. It was everything he worked to portray and wanted to be, carefree and happy. The small face had light lines, dimples and wrinkles from the constant burden of smiling. Looking at the top of the page he saw what Richard had wrote in his unpractised scratchy writing-

Good Dreams.

Jonah shook his head, he could not be Richard’s good dream. He did not deserve that privilege. 

“One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.” Jonah whispered hoarsely, letting go of Richard's hand. Richard’s face remained soft and sympathetic as a ghost of a smile danced across his lips.

“Jonha,” he whispered so quietly, as if his own name could break him - how Richard said his name made him feel unbroken-, “You are not a vill-” 

_“Don’t.”_ Jonah interrupted forcefully before walking out the door. He could not take his kisses or smiles. His doctor was right, it was foolish to think he can save Richard, he can’t even save himself. He was no one's good dream. The picture that Richard drew was not even him, it was the lie that Jonah had worked so hard to fake. 

After hours of delaying the inevitable Jonah returned to his room before lights out. His prayers were once again ignored as he entered to a very present and awake Richard. A small nod and barely there smile was all he could manage before turning to the wall and changing into his pyjamas. Richard barely made eye contact and returned to his blaring music, not bothering to turn out the light for Jonah. 

After a few hours of laying in his restlessness Jonah finally spoke into the dark of the room. “I hate that drawing.” 

Letting the question sit for a minute Richard finally answered, “I think it is beautiful.” 

“Stop saying that.” 

“Why?”

“Because I’m not- it’s not-. Fine it is beautiful, but that is not me if that is what you are trying to go for.” 

Richard waited a few beats before getting his journal out of the nightstand. At the sudden movement Jonah sat up and turned on the lamp. Slowly Richard found the page and showed Jonah the drawing once again. 

“I didn’t draw you. I drew the future, or what I hope for it to be.” Richard whispered while he gently touched the sketched forearm of the dream. For the first time Jonah realized that the arm was scared. The faint lines were light enough to show the length of time they had healed for. They were there, his scars were faded but there, this time with no new marks around them. 

Richard’s good dream was a world where Jonah did not suffer. He drew in the scares because although they were an ugly stain they showed his strength, and that was beautiful. 

Slowly Jonah stood and invited himself on half of Richard’s already small twin mattress. He was no one’s good dream, but they could save each other from their nightmares. He still could not take his kisses and smiles, but maybe they could share them. 

“Here.” Richard whispered handing Jonah an earbud to replace his thoughts.

“What is it?” 

“Noise.”


End file.
